Letters to Hootoo - Plans

I feel so unprepared for you on days like this. I didn’t eat right, had too many naps and feel an overall insecurity. On one hand, your impending presence makes me more motivated to complete school and fight hard to achieve that goal, but on the other hand I feel as though I’m doing it at our expense. At 31, my plan is already falling apart. It’s a full moon, and that reminds me that despite life, I can trust that some things will remain constant: I love you, your Dad loves you, Dad and I love each other and we’ll be going through life together. There will be plenty of full moons and memories and I’ll try hard to remember what’s important. Especially on days like this.

Letters to Hootoo - Cute, Soy-Slugging Turnips

Hey, baby. You’re the size of a turnip this seventeenth week. You can hear my voice and your bones are hardening. A few more weeks and you’re in the clear, you’re “viable”. You can do it, you’re stubborn like your hot Mom. Both Dad and I have been having dreams about you. Mine was that I discovered there was a girl in there, hanging out in my womb. Dad’s was that he held you up in his hands; you were just a small thing with thick dark hair like your Om Justin. He saw you as a girl, too. It’s interesting how our dreams align. It doesn’t matter to us which gender you are, just show up healthy. Cute would be a plus. I don’t do f'ugly.

I wonder if you’ll like soy nog. I’ve been sucking it back like it’s going out of style.

Dad went to a class yesterday to learn about cloth diapering. He was pretty excited about it, and had a good time. I am NOT putting cheap-ass plastic on my Hootoo, only to have it live forever in a wasteland.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. Someday, I’ll tell you all about your great-grandfathers in World War II, and show you photos.

I love you, sweet thing. See you soon.

xo Yo Mama

Let it snow.

I’d love a snowstorm. One that shuts the world down for three days. Just three, that’s enough. Enough time for me to relax, watch movies, drink soy nog and listen to Feist.

Letters to Hootoo - Our Heart

I had an unexpected moment during my OB exam this morning: I heard you. I heard your heart beat. It was awesome. One hundred and sixty beats per minute. I didn’t say anything to the Nurse Practitioner, just laid there and grinned.

Letters to Hootoo - Be Prepared

Hootoo is going to be the next best thing to hit Earth. I’ve started writing letters to this amazing being, not only because Hootoo is amazing but because one day, I will make Hootoo sit, read and behold its kick-ass Mama. Thanks, Momento. I’m at the Walk for Alzheimer’s and I’m aching for the family that supported me financially and in spirit to be here with me. Then I realize that I do have a family partner here … you. Let’s do this.

Well, shit.

It’s true, those were my thoughts minutes after I peed on a stick. Rather, minutes after I peed on a stick and saw the results. It wasn’t joy, it wasn’t bliss or excitement. It took two more sticks and a visit to the obstetrician to have any real reaction at all. Some of that reaction was elation: Finally, an answer to why my body has been broken all these weeks. But really, the majority was fear.

People have always told me I’d make a great Mom. So far I’m sub par. I ditched my plant eating ethics in a hot minute to gorge on ribs and flesh (Hootoo needs protein, or so I tell myself), I drink too much Diet Pepsi and not enough milk, regularly forget my vitamins and make Hootoo audience to Radiohead and loud music. It has no choice. Then again, I write it letters, keep it hydrated, think happy and hope for the best. It knows I’m considering being more responsible and adult, I’ve told it so. I’ll take it places. It’s lucky to have me.

I think more about the end game than the journey. The fateful day when I’m bearing down, cursing Dad and Hootoo for this miserable situation. I could make it easier with some medication, but I’m a tough broad and I’ll opt for soothing sounds and holistic scents. When Hootoo comes on the scene, baby is going to be healthy and perfect and awesome. And man, my baby will punch your baby right in the nose.